


Not (Un)ashamed Of What I Am (Frerard)

by Itlivesforever



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Depression, Gerard is a mess, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Wow that is heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itlivesforever/pseuds/Itlivesforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am going to die today.

</p>
<p>I am going to let the still-icy waves of this river wash over me and let myself truly lay at rest and at peace."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Just a forewarning, this fic is fairly dark. Please be safe and check the tags for trigger warnings.

Peace.

Peace is all I feel, that and the ever so dull pain of being out in the cool air for too long, mostly on my face and bare hands. The cold doesn't bother me though, it really never has. Besides, these last few early March days have been warmer than it's been in months. It's because of the warmth that most the snow has melted from the cold, dead ground.

Anyone who has passed a simple science class or even just has common sense knows that when snow melts, water levels rise. So, needless to be said, the river that I'm standing above is moving faster and more furiously than it has since the late summer storms ended and the icy winter moved in. 

Not that I can actually see the waves anyways, it's the dead of night after all. Granted, there is still one sad little lamp on this broken little bridge that still works, but still there isn't enough light to see the crashing river. The bridge was abandoned years ago along with the road that crosses it. The bank of the river finally eroded away enough land to cause the road to begin to cave in, and I suppose the government just didn't care enough to fix it up. I wonder how that little lamp post _is_ still working. It truly is miraculous, seeing that the poor thing is as neglected, as lonely and as forgotten as it is. I would almost say that it keeps glowing simply to prove to foolish people like me that it can, no matter how lost and alone it is. That is, if lamps had feelings or thoughts, but I know better.

But, nonetheless, I suppose now I have experienced two miracles today. The first being that of the perseverance of the lamp post; the second being the fact that my case is the exact opposite.

I am going to die today.

I am going to let the still-icy waves of this river wash over me and let myself truly lay at rest and at peace.

••

My clock had read exactly 1:24 am when I had woken up from the same nightmare that I've been having every night for the past month and a half. That is, every night since that of The Incident. A corny, almost cliché name for it, I know, but I still can't bring myself to even _think_ of the words to give a real name to what actually happened that night. 

When I woke, I was gasping for air and choking on tears in a cold sweat, scrambling to make sure that I was alone. This time the dream was even more realistic than the night before. I hadn't known it was possible. I had truly been back to that cold night and I had truly relived what had happened... 

How much longer would I be forced to live with this trauma? Revisit it every time I close my eyes? Certainly it would not end until my life itself was ended as well.

And with that I decided that tonight was the night I escaped. I already had it planned, already had what I needed and knew what I was going to do. What I had constantly pondered was when it would happen, but my uncertainty was gone. I checked my clock again, and it blinked 2:08 am back at me. I finally sat up and wiped the last of my tears from my face.

That's when the calmness settled in. It was like my whole body knew that everything ended tonight. 

I quickly put on clothes - black jeans and an equally black hoodie - and slipped out of my room. I considered checking to make sure no one was still awake, but the house was dead. There wasn't even the sound of my brother's video games being played, and God knows that most nights he stays up until the break of dawn playing those damn things. Clearly everyone was asleep and I had no worries. As I passed first my mother's room, and then my brother's I could just barely hear each of their shallow, calm breathes. If only they knew that I wouldn't be breathing with them tomorrow. 

I then snapped myself from the thoughts. Those could be made later, but right now I had no time to waste. I silently made my way to my garage and flipped the light. My eyes searched until they laid their gaze onto an old concrete block with a large chain attached to it. The crude thing had once been used to tie up the dog we had owned outside. I picked up the heavy stone and loaded it into the trunk of my little car, along with the collar that was attached to it.

You see, the only thing that terrifies me about my death is the thought of someone finding my body. The thought of some careless investigator discovering who I was and then forcing my mother to look at her dead child to confirm my identity. She may be able to handle me leaving, but that is something _that_ I will not put her through. 

I figure if I just tie that block to myself, and push it with me as I jump, it will hold me down in the depths of the river. I may surface eventually, but not until the harsh waves have stripped me to an unidentified skeleton and no one has to see my haunting dead face or my clammy cold hands. 

After putting what I needed into my car, I had gone back into the house. I had passed the fridge and was tempted to grab my mother's six pack and simply drink away my sorrows like I normally did. But I was far passed the point of being simply sorrowful. I also wanted to be sober when I died, able to truly experience my final thoughts. Besides, I still had to do one last thing, the thing that throughout my planning I spent the most time thinking about. I took out a piece of paper and a pen, already knowing what I was going to write.

The note was addressed to my brother. Not that I did not love my mother enough to address it to her as well, but my brother and I had always been close. It seemed like every memory I had worth keeping was with Mikey. The note definitely had to be for him. I had struggled to fit all the words onto one page; I've never been one to summarize. I had then silently slipped into his room and put the note on his bedside table, under his glasses. I watched him momentarily, his innocent and peaceful face, and felt a pang of guilt knowing that after he found that note, his face may never hold those qualities again. Against my better judgment, I then had bent down and kissed him on the forehead, whispering a "Goodbye, little brother" in his ear, and taking in his scent that I knew so well one last time. He had hardly stirred, and once I was sure he had fallen back into his deep sleep I left his room as silently as I had come.

From there I had carefully set my phone on the table of the kitchen to be sure no one could track me. I then drove toward the old abandoned bridge and arrived, parking my car in a place I had already found where I knew it wouldn't be discovered. Just a small clearing surrounded by thick brush and trees, except for the path I used to drive the car there, but it would do. I gathered my supplies, the block and collar, and made my way slowly from the car's hiding place to the center of the dimly lit bridge. 

The old bridge had a fair sized ledge on the outside of the railings that had once guarded fast cars from driving off the edge into the churning waters below. The ledge was large enough for someone to stand on, and the horizontal bar of the railing was high enough to push the concrete block under. Once I had gotten the block to the other side, I myself jumped the railing ever so carefully and stood next to it. I then simply fastened the collar to my ankle and clipped the chain attached to the block to the collar. Everything was ready as it should be.

••

Now I'm standing with my eyes closed, just reprocessing what had happened, what events had led me to here. In all honesty, all the planning and the preparing was just a blur in my mind. What did it truly matter, now that I'm here, welcoming death with a smile with no one to hold me back? The only things that stand out in my mind are those words that I crammed onto that paper. I picture them now, able recite them because I have thought them through so carefully. I tip my head back, and the words run across my mind as the wind runs across my bitter-cold face. 

_"Hey Mikey,_

_I know that I haven't been the same this past month or so. I know that I've been distant from you and Ma and everyone else and that that's not okay. But sometimes life changes and it just doesn't seem like it's worth living anymore, and it's not worth it for me. The nightmares, the drugs, the booze. They aren't me. I can't live if this is who I'm going to be._

_But I don't want you to remember that part of me. Remember all those games we used to play when we were young? About being in a rock band and traveling all over the world? Remember when we saw that Smashing Pumpkins concert and yelled and sang until we couldn't talk for days? Remember when that kid broke your glasses so I broke his nose? That's what I want you to think of when you think of me._

_I love you little brother, I hope you understand why I have to leave. Please take care of Ma, remind her that I love her too. Just keep on marching to the drum of this city's rain, you'll be alright without me._

_-Gerard"_

He'll understand, he'll move on. I know he will. He's always been so much stronger of a kid than most his age. 

I suppose I have thought long enough about what I am about to do to actually do it. I guide my foot to the block and nudge it closer to the end of the ledge. The abyss of water below me cheers me on, welcoming me to its depths. I once again close my eyes and lean back my head.

This is it.

In just moments I will fall, and then I will be free.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of self-harm in this chapter

"Hello...?"

My eyes shoot open as the sound jerks me from my thoughts, into reality. The wind suddenly feels much more powerful, the temperature much lower. My gentle hold on the bridge railing turns into a death grip, and I half expect the metal to break in my fist. My entire body tenses and I don't dare move a muscle as the voice rings out again.

"Sir? Hello?"

The voice seems to belong to that of a younger boy. The voice is frightened, unsure. Confused as to why there is an outline of a man on the edge of the bridge, his figure highlighted by the miraculous glow of that damn street lamp. How had I not heard anyone approach? I always observe everything, whether it be sounds or movement or flashes of color. Why did my senses fail me tonight of all nights?

Now that I'm aware, I hear cautious foot steps on the broken pavement of the bridge. Is it so hard to tell that I need to be alone? That I have things that I need to take care of that require simple solitude? I squint my eyes closed and sigh in frustration as I feel the boy's presence get closer and closer.

"Leave me alone, kid," I attempt to demand. But the words come out cracked and depressed, and all my hopes of intimidation deflate. However, the footsteps stop, and there is a long pause only filled by the howling of the water beneath me. Maybe he truly was going to turn around and leave me to my business. 

Or maybe he won't.

Maybe he's going to call the police. Get out his phone and summon a gang of cruel men to get me down. It would be like a damn movie. They would race to the scene in their white cars with sirens blasting, like screaming spirits alerting everyone of what I am going to do. The hard voices of the men would shout at me not to "do anything stupid" as if I haven't thought through what I'm going to do and don't know the consequences. As if I'm just another dumb kid that doesn't know how to weigh his options and find away to survive. And then suppose they do get me off this ledge. I would be forced to keep living with the nightmare I do, and no way in hell would anyone let me slip away again. I would be trapped. Meanwhile those damn cops would go home as the heroes who saved the poor boy from himself, not the thieves that stole the freedom of a tortured soul. The torment and humiliation I endure every day would never end.

No.

I can't let that kid call the police. He has to leave.

I muster up all the anger I can. Anger at myself, anger about what has happened to me, anger at the police that currently only live in my mind; but in the end, I don't yell. Instead I simply speak slowly and warningly at the boy, but still with words full of venom.

"I swear to God if you don't get the fuck out of here, I will jump, and you will have to watch me die. It is up to you how much you see. So I'm giving you thirty seconds, kid, to leave before I throw myself off this goddamn bridge." 

I just barely hear him sigh over the roar of the river as I start mentally counting the time. But still he stays on the bridge. I can feel his eyes trained on me, and I can almost hear his thoughts racing as he tries to think of how to respond, what to do. 

"Twenty seconds," I warn him, and I decide to move closer to the edge of the bridge to prove my seriousness. 

Another four seconds pass before he speaks.

"I'm not going to let you die alone. I don't know who you are, or what you've done or been through. But you don't deserve to die alone." 

The new determination in his voice shocks me, and I'm equally surprised when I once again hear him walking on the bridge. Instead of walking away he comes towards where I stand on the ledge. Out of the corner of my eye I see the stranger for the first time. He appears to be older than I thought, but has a small build. I watch him in my peripheral vision as he struggles to safely jump the bridge railing. After he succeeds, he stands next to me and looks at me expectantly. 

If he thinks I'm going to make this easy for him, he's wrong. 

"The thirty seconds was up over a minute ago, kid," I mutter, refusing to look at him. I instead focus on the blackness below me that conceals the river from my view. 

"Well," he breathed, with a sound of relief that he hasn't really earned yet, "then I guess at least I'm getting _somewhere_ , right? If you're still here? And also, you can't really call me a kid. You hardly look older than I am." 

"Maybe I just wanted to see if you'd make it over that railing in one piece," I retort at him. "And considering all I've been through, I think I can be considered older than my years, _kid_." I shot a cold glare at him, looking at him for the first time. He really was short, but in the darkness I couldn't see the exact features of his face. I could however tell that he had longer dark hair and was wearing black clothes as I was. 

Perhaps he can't see my eyes, but I know he sure as hell can feel their gaze because he surrenders and I can see his silhouette shrug. With that he turns his eyes away from me. "Alright, alright I'll give you that. My name is Frank, by the way."

His tone was light. Like he was talking to a friend in a coffee shop, not a suicidal freak in the dead of night. Doesn't he realize that he's not going to stop me from doing what I planned? What I have my heart set on? He can't stay here all night, and I'm sure as hell not going to move. Why should I be forced to continue living in hell just because some boy that I've never seen before and I'm never going to see again thinks I should? If there is even the slightest bit of logic in that, I don't see it. 

When I finally speak, I practically spit the words at the stranger. "I don't need to know your name, because after tonight you are never going to see me again. You can't stop me. You're wasting your damned time." 

He now seems to have noticed the cement attached to my foot, but he doesn't mention it. He must have figured out what it was for though, because his mood changes. His shoulders slump slightly in defeat. Maybe I had finally won. I wait, but he doesn't leave, he just sighs. I should've known better than to think that he'd leave. He turns his head towards me and I can _feel_ the pleading look in his eyes when he speaks to me.

"Don't you have _anyone_ worth staying for? Anyone who cares? Don't tell me that you don't. That's a lie and I know it is because I know people who put themselves in your position years ago and I _still_ miss them. How can you put someone through that when they care so much about you?" 

His voice shakes as he speaks. I try to tell myself it's because he's cold but I know that that's not true. It's pretty clear that the kid wasn't just talking about me anymore, but more of recollecting his own experiences. Which answered my question as to why he _cared_ so much about me. About what I plan to do on this goddamned bridge.

But he'd get over it. He doesn't even know me. 

Everyone would get over it.

I sigh, more to myself than to him. I can't bring myself to be angry or even look at him. I simply choke out the words, barely audible above the sound of the river. 

"Kid... I really think you should leave."

My voice trails off after that. I had nothing else to say. But he was wasn't done with me.

"You never answered my question." 

"I guess I didn't," I say quietly. He just won't quit will he?

"So who cares about you? Who do you live with? You have to live _somewhere_." The desperation in his voice rings in my ears like nails on a chalkboard. 

I wait a moment to recover from the screeching of his chalkboard voice before answering "I live with my mother. And brother." 

"Tell me about them. Tell me about your brother."

What was he, my therapist? But regardless of my mild irritation I tell him.

"He's my younger brother. Mikey."

"Aren't you guys close? I've always wanted a brother. I'm an only child," he informs me.

I think about my brother and the corner of my mouth twitches up slightly. Not quite a smile, I don't smile anymore, but as close as I had been in a long time. "Yeah, we've been inseparable since the day my parents brought him home from the hospital. We're a little over three years apart. We do--" I correct myself, "--did everything together. He's my best friend, always has been." I stare down into the noisy abyss below and feel a pang of guilt, but quickly push it away. This is not the time for me to finally start feeling again. 

But the second that stupid kid speaks again the guilt is launched back at me.

"How can you say he's your best friend and then just leave him? You're just going to let him deal with losing his brother like that? Are you thinking about him at all?" This is the angriest I've heard him since he discovered me, and it was shocking honestly. But after all I've been through, after how long I've planned, I wasn't about to let a frustrated little boy stop me.

"He'll get over it. He'll forget about me," I hissed. My own anger then once again died away. Funny how after over a month of complete numbness, feeling absolutely nothing, I'm suddenly getting mood swings like a teenaged girl. With my anger dissipated, I return to my thoughts of Mikey. "Besides, I've taught him his whole life to be strong. No matter what. He'll be okay without me." 

I had barely finished when once again guilt-laced words were being thrown at me.

"So you're saying that your _brother_ is strong enough to just simply move on without you? Without his best friend? How old even is he, how do you know what he can handle?"

"He's sixteen but--"

" _Sixteen?_ " He interjected. He was furious now. With just that one word I could tell his face was a raging hue of red. Why does he even care so much about my damn brother and his age? He doesn't _know_ him and he sure as hell doesn't know me either. He doesn't know my reason for standing on this ledge. Why the hell should he be so angry at me when I'm not even going to be alive by time the sun rises? He damn near shouts at me now, like I knew he would.

"Are you fucking _stupid?_ Do you know anything about losing someone you care so much about when you're only sixteen? Watching your whole fucking _life_ crumble when it was already at such an unstable point? You think he'll just get _over_ it? You better believe me when I tell you that he won't. He will _never_ stop thinking about it and he will _never_ be truly happy again."

Again, it's pretty obvious that he's not just thinking about my brother. 

I now just stand and stare at my feet. My eyes trace the dim outline of my one foot and then move to follow the length of the chain attached to it. It really is an ugly chain. Thick and rusty and weathered, but somehow still in tact. It was damaged but let people use it for their own needs all the same. And it was still unbroken.

Maybe the stranger next to me wasn't such a kid after all. Although I guess he isn't a total stranger anymore. Frank, I think he said his name was.

I'm still silent as my mind travels to what he said to me.

I imagine my brother never smiling again. Not that he smiled for just anyone anyways. He always had a grin reserved for me, though. I've hardly seen that smile at all this past month, I had isolated myself so much. I quickly push the thoughts out of my mind.

"Wow. Nothing to say? Nothing at all?" I hear Frank say after some time of me not responding to him. "You were right. I can't stop you. I was stupid to think I could change your mind." 

His voice is full of self-loathing and despair, and I suppose he had long forgotten his "you won't die alone" mentality because he begins climbing back over the railing. Once he makes it over, he just proceeds to walk away, back down the bridge. 

I won.

He's leaving, I can do what I need to in peace. 

I look down to make sure that the cement block is close enough to the edge that it will fall with me when I leap. I spread out my arms and move so my feet are hanging halfway off the ledge. I'm ready.

But then I hear it. Just a faint whisper in my mind.

_Gerard, please._

It was my brother's voice. 

And with that the images I had pushed away before slammed back into my mind with the force of a tsunami. 

A thin, lengthy figure curled in a ball on a bed. Sobbing and screaming into the pillow, hoping that maybe he'll suffocate in it. 

I try to force the thoughts back but they were too powerful, too real. I try to force myself to throw myself into the river but my feet just won't move. I tell myself over and over again that he'll be fine and that he'll go on without me and live a perfectly happy life. But the images of my brother take over every fraction of my mind. What if he _isn't_ fine?

I imagine my mother trying to make Mikey eat. Her eyes are swollen and she can barely get the sentence out to tell him it's been almost three days since his last meal. But he doesn't move. How can you be hungry when you're so numb?

But that wasn't the worst to come, no, not even close. I imagine him leaving his bed for the first time in God knows how long. He digs in his desk drawer until he finds a pencil sharpener and then breaks it. He slips out of his room and into the bathroom with the metal hidden in his fist. He promised me he would stop and together we both had tried to get clean. This last month I had broken my promise and he knew that, and now I wasn't there to stop him from breaking his. He lowers the cold blade to his skin and not only am I not there to help him, I'm the one that caused him to do it. I left him and now he's pushing down into his skin and he's crying so hard that he can't breath and there's blood and it's all my fault and --

" _NO!_ " I yelled, barely realizing I had spoken. I flung back like I had been shocked and clung to the railing sobbing. Through my blurry tears I could still see the small silhouette of the boy that hadn't wanted to give up on me. I could see him stop and turn at my shout. Before I could gather my thoughts I was yelling again.

"Wait!" I choked out a sob. Wow, I must seem like one hell of a mess to him right now, even from afar. I never cry, at least not where people are watching. I'm an ugly crier. Still, I call to him again. " _Frank!_ " I shouted, calling him by his name for the first time. 

He's now in a full sprint down the bridge. Once he reaches me he immediately reaches for my ankle to take off the collar. When he does, however, he makes the mistake of brushing my skin. I flinch away with such force that he stops and looks at me with concern. I look back at him and nod tensely, letting him continue. I'm still shaking and crying when he gets collar unhooked. Once it's no longer attached to me he pushes the chain and cement into the river, and we eventually hear it hit the water with a crash.

I can hardly hear him talking to me over the buzzing of my thoughts. "It's okay, you're going to be alright, you're okay," seemed to be a bulk of what he was saying. 

Somehow I find the strength to once again fully stand and then hull myself over the railing and out of death's way. The second I'm away from the ledge I collapse on the ground and try to control my thoughts and my tears. Frank just kneels down next to me and waits with me until I can breathe and speak again.

Once I'm calm, or at least relatively calm, I finally look at him. I'm still shaking, and I can tell that he is too, even though he's trying to hide it. For the first time I can fully see the features of his face, highlighted by the street lamp's glow. His eyes are wide and dark as he watches me with shock and concern. His eyebrows are also dark, and slightly raised which further showed his shock at my actions. His small lips are parted as he still recovers the breath he lost when he sprinted down to bridge to me. His face as a whole, however, intrigued me more than the individual features. It was soft and full of compassion, but at the same time cautious and scared. The fear made him look young, almost childish, while the concern made him seem older. Aside from all of that, there was something else in that face too. Something haunting it. I take it that that phantom is the same reason that he was so desperate to help me, and so unwilling to watch me jump into the river. 

We sit silently for many more minutes, but I snap out of my thoughts when Frank suddenly moves his hand to his pocket and grabs his phone. I immediately tense up and _dare_ him with my eyes to call the police or anyone else. He quickly catches on and makes a surrendering motion with his arms, phone still in his hand.

"Woah, woah. It's okay, I'm just checking the time." He lowers his hands and glances at his phone. "It's almost 4am. Um, how did you get here? Did you walk? Do you have anywhere to go for the night? I can take you someplace if you need..." He trails off but then quickly continues. "B-but don't let me rush you away. I can sit here with you longer if you want. Anything to let you know that I care. Just um, tell me when you are ready to go, you're probably really cold too-"

He stops abruptly, realizing that he was rambling. I shake my head slowly at him and speak as much as I can manage.

"No, no it's okay I drove. My car's hidden in the woods. I, um, I suppose I can go home. God, they're going to kill me. My family is going to kill me. The note I left..." I sound like a fucking idiot, barely getting the words out between my sniffling. I feel like the equivalent of a five year old who's crying because they got lost in the mall.

"Hey, its still not even morning yet. They're probably still sleeping," he tried to assure me. "We can just get you to your car so you can make it home in time to get rid of the note, can't you? Do you think you're, um, stable enough to drive?"

He picked his last words carefully. He was right though, there was a good chance that my mom and brother would never even know I left if I got back soon.

"Yeah." I clear my throat to stop my voice from shaking. "Yeah, I can drive myself. What about you? How'd you even happen to come here tonight?"

"Oh, um. I usually just go out at night and walk when I can't sleep. It helps me clear my head. I found this place a while back so I've been coming here a lot lately. I can walk back to my house though, it's not that far. You probably just need to go home though, before, ya know, anyone wakes up," he says awkwardly.

He did have a point. I nod to him and slowly begin to get back on my feet. He tries to help me up, but I shake my head in refusal. He may be a nice kid, but I still don't want him, or anyone else for that matter, to touch me. Once we're up off the ground, Frank insists on walking with me to my car, and I really don't blame him. I may have decided to live another day, but I'm still a fucking headcase. So we walk in silence to where my car's stowed away. As I grab my keys and start to get inside Frank stops me.

"Promise me that you're going home, or wherever you live. Swear to me you aren't going to do anything else stupid. At least not tonight," he says desperately. 

_Anything else stupid._

There it is. God I hate that phrase. Everyone else's definitions of "stupid" sure as hell don't seem to be the same as mine. I think over my response for a moment. I want so badly to lash back out at the words. But I decide last-minute to give up the fight and at least leave the kid on good terms. He at least deserves that, I suppose, for making me feel slightly more cared about tonight. 

"I promise, Frank. Not tonight." Even though my promise is vague, I still look him dead in the face when I say it, and I honestly mean it too. "And thank you. For ya know, caring. Even if you don't even know me."

At this he smiles and there's hope in his eyes.

"It's really no problem, not at all. You're life matters to me. All life matters, no matter who you are -- um," he stops and looks at me.

Huh, I never even told him my name. And he _still_ bothered to help me.

"Gerard," I say, finishing his sentence. 

"Gerard," he repeats, testing the name. "I'm happy we met, Gerard. Despite the circumstances."

"I am too, Frank," and again, I mean it. 

I close the door and start the car, ready to make my way home. I look at him through the window and smile at him, something I haven't done since The Incident. It was a small smile. But a smile all the same. 

And with that I begin my drive back home.


End file.
